


They Never Left

by KitsuHime



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Relationship, So is Alucard, Sypha is Trying Her Best, Trevor is a Dumbass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuHime/pseuds/KitsuHime
Summary: After the defeat of Dracula, Sypha and Trevor decide that it wouldn't be a good idea to leave Alucard--Adrian--alone in an empty castle with nothing but ghosts and his own guilt.  So they stay.  And they try to help him rebuild, but mostly... they just stay to help him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RhoswenRhorar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhoswenRhorar/gifts).

Sypha’s eyes drifted between the two men. Both Trevor and Adrian were injured, but she and Trevor knew that Adrian was suffering the most. They had found him in what appeared to have been his room as a child, a bloody stake laying on the floor in front of him in a pile of smoking ash.

He had done it. 

Adrian Tepes—Alucard—had saved humanity from the wrath of Dracula.

He had also killed his _father_.

It didn’t matter what Dracula had become, he had still raised Adrian, taught him alongside his mother. Adrian had been unable to save his mother, and had then been forced to kill his father when her death drove him mad. Sypha’s own heart broke for her friend, because yes, Adrian _was_ her friend. Trevor’s, too, but he was unlikely to say so out loud.

“Adrian…” She took a step forward, her own aches and fatigue forgotten.

He started, and if they hadn’t been traveling together for so long Sypha wouldn’t have noticed the subtle way the muscles in his neck tightened. His golden eyes were shining with tears, cutting streaks the blood spattered across his face as they ran down his cheeks. She wanted to run to him. But she had also never seen him so vulnerable. Not once had he shown just how much pain their mission had caused him.

He didn’t move as she walked slowly across the floor, hands held out. He didn’t flinch or stiffen as she stopped before him, reaching out and putting one arm around his shoulders, and the other at the back of his head, drawing him down into an embrace. She was so much smaller, and he had to bend to meet her. The brush of her short curls against his cheek, and the warmth of her human body drew him in, his face nuzzling into her neck, his own hair brushing slipping over her shoulder and down her back.

He tried to hold back the tears, but his body didn’t listen. He hadn’t had time to grieve for his mother, the threat of his father’s sudden madness taking priority. Now he grieved for them both, sobs wracking his chest and choking his breaths. He felt the subtle shake of Sypha’s shoulders, and could smell the salt of her tears, even as her face was hidden in his shoulder.

She wept for him. 

The knowledge that he had people—_friends_—that cared enough to weep for his pain was more than he could bear. His knees buckled, and Sypha followed him as he sank to the floor, stroking the back of his head gently. His senses were still sharp, and even lost in his grief and guilt, he heard Trevor’s footsteps, smelled the scent of the man’s blood and sweat. Then another pair of arms enfolded them both, pulling Sypha and Adrian close.

Trevor bowed his head over his friends, feeling them both shake. His own eyes stung, his body crying out in pain as he knelt on the cold stone floor. He knew it had broken some part of Alucard to finally kill his father. Trevor knew what it was to lose your family, he knew that pain. He knew the guilt Adrian must feel over his mother’s death. How easy would it have been for him to swoop in and pull her from the flames, to protect her from the humans? And then the one person he should have been able to look to for comfort had gone mad. So mad that he had wounded his own son so badly that Adrian had had to sleep for a _year_ to heal.

And then he’d had to kill him.

Trever would never know that guilt. He could barely even imagine.

But he _did_ know that the dhampir was hurting. And fuck, Trevor _cared_. He _cared_ about Alucard Fucking Tepes. He hid a wry smile in Sypha’s hair. If only his ancestors could see him now. He, Sypha and Alucard might fight and bicker, and sometimes even might want to pound one another into the dirt. But they were still friends, still comrades bonded through battle. That was a bond that would last forever.

“We’re here, Alucard,” Sypha whispered, kissing the side of his head. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re here.” She made her voice even and calm for him, knowing that even if he was grateful for her sympathy, he needed something grounding now, something to tether him to the living world.

Alucard shuddered, his sobs slowly quieting. Trevor wanted to say something, too. But words… he’d never been good with words. He didn’t know what else to do. Gently squeezing the dhampir’s shoulder, he kissed the top of his golden head, a gesture he remembered from his mother, or… maybe his older sister. He just knew that it had brought _him _comfort when he was younger, and it was all he could think to give his grieving friend. Trevor felt one of the other man’s arms pull away from Sypha and slide around his own back, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, holding him close.

They stayed like that for God knew how long, huddled together in the chilly room. Sypha finally let go when she felt Adrian pull back. She sat down properly, knees folded under her, studying his face. He was so beautiful, even in pain. Her hand came up again, and they all heard his soft intake of breath as she touched his cheek, her thumb swiping away a lingering tear. 

“I can’t imagine your pain,” she said gently. “But it’s going to be alright, Alucard.”

“Adrian…” he murmured.

“What?”

“Alucard was what the villagers called me.” He wasn’t really looking at anything, eyes distant. “My name is—”

“Adrian,” Sypha said, smiling softly. “Alright. We’re here, Adrian.”

Trevor eased back as well, but kept his hand on Adrian’s shoulder. He didn’t know if the man would _ever_ be alright. Trever wanted him to. He didn’t have soothing words like Sypha, with her gently accented voice and her kind eyes. “We should probably get cleaned up,” he said quietly. “There’s got to be some bathroom or something that wasn’t destroyed. Uh… vampires _do_ have bathrooms, right?”

Adrian’s laugh was only a quiet exhale, but the small smile suck. “Of course we do.”

“Just checking,” Trevor said with a shrug as Sypha rolled her eyes at him. Lifting his arm, he sniffed, and made a face. “Some hot water might be in order as well…”

Adrian raised one perfect brow. “I thought we _stopped_ the end of the world,” he said dryly. “Did you just imply that you wanted a _bath_, Belmont?”

Trevor glared, crossing his arms. “Want, no. Need?” Another sniff, another expression of disgust. “Probably. Even I have my limits, you know.”

Sypha felt her smile in her cheeks, and shook her head. Then she looked at Adrian. “We should take advantage of his moment of madness,” she said. “Soap him up and scrub him down before he changes his mind.”

Another laugh from the dhampir, a little louder this time. “If the plumbing hasn’t been destroyed, there should be a Turkish-style bath on one of the lower levels. Come.” They all stood somewhat stiffly, Sypha wincing as the torn fabric of her sleeve was pulled from where the blood had crusted it near the gash on her arm.

Trevor frowned, looking at her in concern, even as the red spots on his skin were starting to darken into a magnificent tapestry of bruises. “You said your mother was a doctor?” he asked as they walked. “Would she have… I dunno… herbs or something to treat injuries?”

“If my father kept the room, such things would actually be where we’re already headed. She got hurt a fair amount what with her experiments, and running about the countryside documenting the flora and fauna.” His voice was distant and sad, but also fond. 

They passed briefly through the main hall, skirting debris and large smears of blood. Trevor found himself Sypha knew a spell for _cleaning_, because it would take ages for the three of them to deal with this mess by hand. They were all aching and tired, and it was a mercy that they only had to go _down_ a few flights of stairs.

Well, a mercy _for now_; going back up was going to be agony.

Adrian half feared that the large bath had been destroyed, not by the fight, but by his father in a fit of grief. The Turkish bath had been for Lisa, a place for her to relax and heal after field expeditions, or just after a long day in the library. He found a lump had returned to his throat by the time they reached the double doors. It was close to the boiler, so it got hot water the fastest out of any room in the house.

He took a breath, and pushed the doors open.

The automatic lights flickered on as they walked in, and Adrian was hit with a painful wave of nostalgia. It was exactly as he remembered. The sudden rush of water startled them, and all of them looked over to the deep, square pool set into the floor, tiled a soft blue ceramic. Large faucets were set into three of the four sides, all of them gushing steaming water. The tiles of the floor around it were of a less slippery texture, pale white marble with veins of gray and black.

Adrian crossed over to a large wardrobe, opening it to reveal stacks of folded white towels, and several robes of the same material. It was soft—if a bit dusty—between Sypha’s hands as Adrian handed her a towel. It was almost larger than she was when she shook it out, and it was exceptionally thick and fluffy. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised at the luxury of it, considering where they were, but it was still welcome.

Trevor sniffed at his towel before shaking it out. It still—somehow—smelled clean. Next to the wardrobe, a tall set of shelves was lined with rows and rows of bottles and pots, each of them labeled in the same clean, easy-to-read hand. Trevor was certain, with the way Adrian’s long, nimble fingers traced the yellowed labels that it was his mother’s hand writing.

Sypha walked over to the tub, toeing off her shoes and lifting her robe slightly to dip a toe into the quickly rising water. She nearly yelped. “You said hot, and you _meant_ it,” she observed, sounding pleased as she came back. Then she was reaching for the broach that pinned her robes closed. Adrian and Trevor instantly flushed, but it really stood out against Adrian’s pale skin.

“Wait!” Trevor squawked.

Sypha paused, blinking up at him. “What now?” she said impatiently.

“Y-you’re… And we’re…” He didn’t seem to be able to form the words, gesturing frantically between himself and Adrian.

Rolling her eyes, Sypha clicked her tongue. “Really, you men. If you’re so worried, just turn around. I’m getting undressed whether you like it or not.”

That _really_ wasn’t the point. The _point_ was that Trevor already found Sypha_ incredibly _attractive, and the idea of seeing her _naked_ did unmentionable things to his insides. And some of his outsides. _‘Alu_—Adrian_ is pretty, too,’_ his brain was kind enough to supply. Then, _‘where the _fuck_ did that come from?’_ He glanced at the dhampir out of the corner of his eye.

Well, the man _did_ have cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, _and_ his hair looked like spun gold. And there _had_ been that time when they first met, when everyone got a _very_ good look at Alucard’s strong shoulders and the lithe muscles of his arms and chest. He was… _pretty_, Trever grudgingly acknowledged. Once you got past the whole _‘drinks blood’_ thing.

_‘I really must have hit my head,’_ he thought, shaking his head as if to toss off the unbidden thoughts and trying to return to the matter at hand.

Adrian just turned his back to her. His thoughts were running along some of the same lines. Sypha was beautiful and kind, not to mention _powerful_. He’d had some… less than chaste dreams about _both_ his companions, but hadn’t figured Trevor for modesty. He’d half expected him to make a lewd comment. But _Adrian’s _mother had taught him to treat women with respect, _especially_ if they were special to him.

“You’d think the Speakers would be more modest, what with those robes,” Trevor muttered, also turning.

“We do not believe that the bodies we are born with are something to be ashamed of,” Sypha sniffed, though her own heart was pounding in her chest and her cheeks felt unreasonably warm. She wasn’t _ashamed_ of her body exactly. But her mind wouldn’t let her stop worrying about what Trevor _and_ Adrian might think of it. _‘For goodness’ _sake_, Sypha!’_ she admonished herself. _‘Now is hardly the time for such things!’_

But she had already begun, and wasn’t about to stop now. She undid her sash and let her half-cape drop. Off went her detached sleeves, and then her robe. Then she pulled the knee-length shift she wore underneath over her head. In just her smallclothes, she folded her things and set them on the bench against the wall. She snuck a look at the turned backs of her companions, both of them looking straight ahead with their shoulders tight. Adrian’s pale ears looked a bit pink.

Rushing through removing her underthings, she dropped them with her robe and walked to the water’s edge. It came nearly to her waist when she stepped in, almost _too_ hot. Her body reacted by prickling her skin with gooseflesh. She lowered herself until the water covered her shoulders with a shivering sigh, leaning back against the wall.

“I’m in the water now,” she said, cracking open an eye when she didn’t hear any movement. “Oh, now what?”

“Water is, ah, transparent,” Trevor muttered. 

Sypha wanted to splash them. “You two are even dirtier than I am,” she said sharply. “_Especially_ you, Trevor.” His shoulders hunched slightly, knowing she was right. “And _you_, Adrian!” The dhampir’s shoulders twitched slightly. “Your hair is tangled with blood and needs to be washed out. If a pair of breasts is what’s scaring you after all that we’ve survived, well…” She threw up her hands with a splash and turned away again. “Cowards,” she muttered.

On instinct, Trevor spun around. “I fought _Dracula_! And a horde of monsters _from hell_!” he said indignantly to the back of Sypha’s head. “I am _not_ a coward!”

“Whatever you say, Belmont,” she sniffed, knowing that using his family name instead of his given one would rile him even more. She really wasn’t sure why she did it though. She was flushed crimson, the heat in her body having little to do with the warmth of the water.

Adrian watched Trevor glare at Sypha for a few moments, before he angrily began stripping off his clothes, muttering to himself. Adrian felt himself smile again as he shook his head. If it didn’t make her uncomfortable, he had no objection to sharing the bath with her, or with Trevor. Despite his attraction to both of them, he knew he could conduct himself like any proper gentleman. He shed his coat and bloody shirt, his joints aching if he moved too suddenly.

When Trevor saw him undressing out of the corner of his eye, he felt his blush darken even further, hopping awkwardly on one foot to keep his back to the other man. He kicked off his boots, stepped out of his trousers, and, without any smallclothes to bother with, strode over and dropped himself into the water. The heat made him yelp, and Sypha was smiling with her eyes closed when he glared over at her.

“Happy now?” he muttered.

“Not until we have some soap,” she murmured. “Oh! Adrian?” Her eyes opened, and she turned, resting her arms on the edge of the bath. “Could you…?” She trailed off into silence. Adrian was _naked_. _‘Of, course he is, you idiot!’_ she told herself. _‘You told both of them to get in the bath and that you didn’t care if they saw you!’_

But the sight of his naked body, or what little she saw before she locked her eyes on his face, was more battered and bruised than she’d expected. He was looking at her, his cheeks flushed. That couldn’t be from her looking, or from knowing that she was _also_ naked, was it?

“Could you find us some soap?” she made herself ask.

Adrian nodded, turning to the shelves. “Of course. I believe there’s something I can add to the water that will help with our wounds.”

“That would be lovely,” she said, wincing slightly as she turned back. The claw marks in her arm was still fresh, and not at all fond of the hot water, even if she knew it would help clean it of any possible infection. “Is there something to scrub with as well?” A pale hand reached over her shoulder and she jumped; his steps were still silent. He was holding a white bar of soap and a washcloth, made of the same material as the towels. “Thank you.”

Trevor only grunted as he was handed his own cleaning supplies, pointedly not looking at either of them as he took the soap and cloth. He dunked them under the water, scrubbing the cloth around the bar until it was overflowing with suds. It didn’t smell of much other than soap as he set the bar on the edge of the bath, ducking under the water to wet his hair.

Adrian opened a tall glass bottle, reading the instructions briefly before he dumped the whole thing into the bathwater. The faucets had stopped, steam rising from the water’s surface and silence falling in the room. Adrian broke it with a soft slosh of water as he lowered himself in with a happy sigh. He might be miserable, but the heat still felt heavenly.

Sypha kept her gaze down as she came back up, pushing her flattened curls out of her face. She used the bar itself to soap up her hair, sinking a bit lower in the water so that lifting her arms didn’t bring her breasts out of the water. If the boys were feeling awkward, she didn’t want to make it worse for them. Well, maybe _part_ of her did, contrary to the part that _wanted_ them to look at her, to _like_ what they saw.

She splashed water onto her face and drew her hands over it, as if it were possible to smooth away the blush on her cheeks. But now that they were all together, even if they were all on opposite sides of the bath, giving each other as much room as possible, the thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone. 

They had started not terribly long ago, during a fight where Trevor was lifted by a winged demon and dropped into an icy lake. Adrian and Sypha had killed the demon and retrieved their companion. But he hadn’t been breathing, and she had put her mouth to his to breathe life back into him while Adrian pressed rhythmically on Trevor’s chest; to keep his heart beating, he’d said. It had hardly been romantic, with Trevor coming back to life with a violent gasp, and had promptly turned and vomited water into the dirt.

But it had still been a kiss of sorts, and they had spent that night in a tight cluster under their blankets, Trevor in a cobbled together outfit stolen from a village clothesline while his own dried on the other side of the fire. They had huddled together for warmth before that, but with the memory of Trevor’s lips on hers, it had felt different to Sypha, and the memory had stuck.

The next time, it had been _her_ that fell into the water; a swift running river with a rickety old bridge. She would have normally caught herself with a gust of wind, but the river had been only a few inches below the bridge and _icy_. She didn’t remember much before she came to with the brief feeling of cool lips on hers before she saw the blurry form of Alucard pulling away, letting her turn to the side and cough up what felt like half the river.

So, they had never kissed. Not really. 

But it had started her thinking. She’d been a bit ashamed, at first, of dreaming of them both. Sypha had known triads—sometimes more—of lovers among the Speakers, different from the men in other lands with harems of wives and concubines. The triads were all equals in a relationship. That didn’t seem terribly selfish, as she had feared when the thought first entered her head, being willing to share your heart with more than one person.

She had known she loved them both, flaws and all. But before, she’d thought it the love of comradery, people fighting together for a common goal, trusting their friends to have their backs. Now, she wasn’t so sure. She’d seen the looks that Trevor had given Adrian when the other man wasn’t looking. They weren’t looks of certainty or longing, and she doubted that Trever would recognize attraction if it came up and bit him. And his people weren’t quite so liberal with their ideas of homosexuality, calling it a sin and a sickness.

Ducking under the water to hide her scowl as much as rinse her hair, Sypha came up with a sigh, glancing over at her companions. Trevor seemed to be having trouble. One shoulder was now a mass of red-purple bruising, swollen in comparison to the other. He was trying to reach his back, and kept wincing and cursing with each attempt. She was sympathetic; her own wound had put her in a similar position.

“Trevor,” she said, not moving towards him just yet, “let one of us help.” She didn’t want to spook him, as agitated as he’d seemed about her being naked earlier. “And… I’ll need someone’s help with my back as well.”

Trevor looked like he’d been about to object, then his eyes fell to the raw claw marks on her upper arm. A look of concern flashed over his face. Adrian looked at them both. He was healing much faster than them, a combination of his vampire blood and the potion added to the bath. He left his side of the bath, swimming over to the center.

“Bel—Trevor.” All of them blinked at the use of the hunter’s _first_ name. They realized that’d they’d expected him to keep calling Trevor ‘Belmont’ forever. Trevor blinked over at him. “Why don’t you wash Sypha’s back if she has no objections,” he said, and it took the other two a moment to realize what was different about his voice. He was _uncertain_, bashful, even! “I can… help with yours, if you’ll permit me…”

_‘Oh, heavens…’_ Sypha thought. _‘He’s worried about making us uncomfortable. Especially Trevor; having a vam—no, dhampir—at his back…’_ She smiled warmly; he was being _sweet_.

“I don’t mind at all,” she declared aloud. She turned a slightly sharper look to Trevor. “And you’re going to let one of us help you, Trevor. So, do you want a half-vampire at your back, or a naked woman?” Adrian smirked and his eyes sparkled with mirth as Trevor flushed nearly scarlet.

Grumbling, Trevor took up the soap and washcloth again, moving over to put himself behind Sypha, sinking lower in the water so that he couldn’t see over her shoulders. “No funny business back there,” he muttered, glancing briefly at Adrian. 

Sypha laughed—a _real_ laugh, loud and bright—having the decency to cover her mouth with her hand as she shook her head. “So, naked women are scarier than vampieres, Trevor?” she teased, rising up out of the water a bit to expose more of her back. She heard the quiet slosh of water as Adrian moved behind Trevor.

“No, you setting me on fire for looking at your tits is scarier,” Trevor said hotly, earning a snort from Adrian behind him. “Hey, she’s only ever threatened to incinerate _one_ of us!”

“Oh, I’ve thought about setting you on fire on _multiple_ occasions,” Sypha said, keeping her pleased sigh quiet as Trevor began to scrub her back, one hand braced gently on her shoulder, careful around all the bruises. “Usually just your clothes, though.”

“It’s not too late for that last part,” Adrian said. “I don’t think there’s any amount of washing that could save them now.”

“Hey, that’s not fair; two of you at once…” 

The other possible meaning of his words hit all three of them at once, and Sypha felt her cheeks flaming at the mental image they conjured. Trevor made a choking noise, suddenly _very_ interested in cleaning the middle of her spine. Behind them, Adrian could _smell_ the sudden spike of arousal in the other two, and blinked. That couldn’t be possible; it had to be a mix of the bath, the soap, the potion, the blood, and adrenaline.

“You’re _awful_, Trevor,” Sypha finally said softly, and there was no hiding the change in her scent anymore, or the lower timbre of her voice. 

Adrian paused, staring at the broad expanse of Trevor’s back and shoulders, the dips and angles, the crisscross of scars both large and small, new and old. Over his shoulder, Sypha’s back was a clean canvas, save for a tiny silver line on her shoulder, barely the width of a fingernail. So incredibly different, and Adrian found them both so incredibly beautiful. Without thinking, he stroked his bare hand over Trevor’s shoulder blade instead of the washcloth.

Immediately, he thought that Trevor would flinch, whip around and snap at him. Instead, he heard a soft, slightly stuttered intake of breath, and heard the hunter’s heart rate quicken. There was no mistaking it now; they both reeked of lust, masculine and feminine scents twisting together in the most delicious and tantalizing way. 

_‘The fuck was that?’_ Trevor thought, thinking more of his own reaction to the touch than anything. It had felt… nice. Alucard’s hands were cooler than the average human, but the soft contact had just… _‘I’ve rattled my brain. That’s all.’_

Adrian took his hand away, working the suds silently over Trevor’s shoulders with the washcloth. The hunter hesitated a bit before he started on Sypha’s back again. Trevor didn’t really want to think about the way the place that Adiran had touch was still tingling, or the way the warmth lingered in his cheeks. Coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t currently terrified of Adrian lunching forward and sinking his fangs into his neck was more than enough to occupy his mind. 

They’d been fighting together for… what? Months? The days had all blurred together, sleep snatched while someone stood on watch and between fighting the night hordes. Fifteen years of training wasn’t just_ gone_, of course. The idea of a vampire, half-human or otherwise, behind him when he was vulnerable was still very unsettling. But Adrian…

Oh.

Adrian wasn’t just ‘the vampire’ anymore. When Trevor thought of him, he was Alucard—the Adrian thing would take some getting used to, but Adrian seemed to like it better than what was just his father’s name spelled backwards—their ally, and now friend. They _were_ friends, right? They’d fought through the armies of hell itself, defending one another. The other two _had_ to think of him as a friend, right?

Then he thought of the way Adrian had clung to them upstairs. At his most vulnerable, probably in agony, the dhampir had let them approach, had _reached_ for them, and let them hold him. If that wasn’t friendship, Trevor really wasn’t sure what _was_. And, after convincing himself that he was _happier_ and _better off_ alone, it was a strange thing, to look at other people and feel safe. _Really_ safe. He could sleep and they wouldn’t stab him in the back, wouldn’t abandon him.

Shit. Apparently exhaustion—and probably blood loss if he was honest—made him sentimental. But he gave a wry smile as he finished with Sypha’s back, splashing water up onto her shoulders to rinse off the last of the bubbles. “Should be good,” he mumbled, making to move away from them both.

Adrian caught Trevor’s shoulder, feeling him jump slightly. “Your back is larger than hers,” he said calmly. “One moment.”

“I’ve been soaking in magic healing water!” Trevor said indignantly, but knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of the hold unless Adrian let him, and he was too tired to really force it.

Sypha turned, smiling as she glanced briefly at them. “I’ll go dry off,” she said, moving past them. 

“Use the dressing screen to preserve Belmont’s modesty,” Adrian said over his shoulder, making a gesture with his free hand to where the screen was leaned against the wall.

Trevor turned and glared over his shoulder. Adrian _still_ looked like shit, eyes sunken and blood-shot from tears. But there was a hint of that smug grin Trever was so familiar with at the corner of his mouth. Sypha’s giggle almost made him try to glare at her, but remembered that she was _naked_, and thought better of it. He heard a soft grunt from Sypha and then the scrape of wood on the floor.

“Our spare clothes didn’t survive as well, did they?” she called, rubbing down with the towel. She _really_ didn’t want to put her robes back on. They were blood-stained and full of so much sweat and dirt that they actually _felt _unpleasant in her hands. Her grandfather had taught her that one should always dress in _clean_ clothes after bathing.

Trevor, about to stand and climb out of the bath, paused. “I have no idea where our packs are,” he said. He quickly grabbed the towel he’d left nearby, wrapping it around his waist. He didn’t fancy going in search of them either

“Don’t you _dare_ put your old things on, Trevor!” Sypha’s voice called, just as he’d been reaching for his shirt. 

How did she _do_ that? “And what the fuck else am I supposed to wear? Do you suggest we loot the vampire generals’ rooms for something to _wear_?” But he still put on one of the robes; he was too tired to actually argue with anyone, for once, using the towel to try and dry his hair.

There was silence from behind the screen.

Adrian hauled himself effortlessly out of the bath and wrapped his own towel around his waist. Well, at least it _looked_ effortless. He still felt as if he’d been run over by a stampede of angry cattle. “There may still be some of my old clothes here,” he said.

Without the threat of nakedness, Trevor had no issue shooting him a look. “There’s no way I’m going to fit into anything _you_ ever wore.”

“I suppose I could borrow a shirt,” Sypha said, synching her own robe around her waist. “Are you boys decent? Or must I continue to avert my eyes?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Trevor muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head was really starting to ache. “I _try_ to be respectful and _this_ is what I get.” He tried to glared at Sypha as she stepped out from behind the screen.

“You can…” He trailed off, thinking. “There may be clothes left in the servant’s quarters.”

“Servants?” Trevor hadn’t thought about that, but he supposed it made sense; Dracula probably wasn’t going to be doing any dusting.

“Follow me.” He gathered his old—and probably ruined—clothes, putting them under his arm as he moved for the door they’d entered through. 

They were all too tired to care about leaving the bath full, or putting anything away. Thankfully, the servant’s quarters were on the same level. All the clothes they found were in black and red, but they were _clean_, and both Sypha and Trevor were able to find something that fit them, dressing with their backs to each other. Adrian vanished while they looked, coming back before they had even noticed he was gone. The clean shirt he wore was identical to the ruined one, but the pants looked more like proper sleeping clothes, loose and comfortable.

“I’m sure that there are some rooms that weren’t—” he began.

“I want us to stay together,” Sypha blurted. She pointedly ignored looking at either of them. “There might still be monsters wandering about, and it’s not like we can close the front door…” More than that, she was so tired. She didn’t have it in her to put on a brave face. She didn’t want to be _alone_.

At the sight of Sypha’s face falling—indomitable Sypha, always so loud and strong—Trevor felt his chest go tight. He glanced at Adrian, seeing a similar expression of concern on his face. “I don’t much fancy going to sleep in some room a _vampire_ was using, myself,” he muttered. “Are there any places where we could build a fire?” He avoided the grateful look Sypha was giving him.

Adrian kept his smile to himself. “A few of the rooms have fireplaces, yes,” he said.

They followed him back up the stairs, their bodies protested with every step. They avoided the great hall, and the level where Adrian’s old room had been. The room they found was a bit dusty, but otherwise serviceable. Sypha broke up some of the wooden rubble and lay it in the hearth, using what little remained of her magic to start it burning. 

She sat in front of it for a while, feeling the heat sinking into her limbs. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trevor laying a pillow and a blanket out on the floor. Standing, she walked over and touched his shoulder. “Trevor…”

Looking up, he was again unnerved by the tired, vulnerable expression on the magician’s face. “Can we… can we all share the bed?” she asked softly. It wasn’t like they hadn’t huddled together for warmth before, but she knew that this was something else. She wanted both of them close tonight.

Trevor looked from her, to Adrian, and back again. Sharing a bed was…

“Please, Trevor?”

Alright, that was just _unfair_. How was he supposed to say ‘no’ when her voice got all quiet and sad like that? Cheating, that’s what it was! “Fine,” he muttered, standing and tossing the pillow back onto the bed. He walked away from her and crawled under the covers—Adrian had brought sheets and quilts from the wardrobe set against the wall—on the far edge of the bed.

Sypha smiled, even at his grumbling tone. She crawled in beside him, close but not quite touching. Then she held up the blankets and looked to Alucard. “Just for tonight?” she said, hoping he couldn’t tell she was lying.

Adrian saw the way Trevor’s shoulders stiffened slightly. He held no illusions that Trevor was attracted only to Sypha, and would happily keep his own attraction to the hunter to himself, rather than risk their tenuous friendship. But Sypha had turned that pleading look on _him_ now, one hand still holding up the quilts at the other patted the space on her other side. 

He was too exhausted to resist the temptation to share a bed with the objects of his desire. And besides, what harm would a single night do? But, like Trevor, he made a show of sighing, as if he were doing this only for her. He draped his coat on one of the chairs, sliding silently in beside Sypha and pulling the blankets around himself. Up close, he could see her flushed cheeks again, smell the longing in her scent. Her hand took his and squeezed it briefly.

“Thank you both,” she said, voice already slurring with sleep.

It was no burden to settle in close to her, closing his eyes and breathing deeply of her and Trevor’s scents. His heart still ached, tears waiting for him to fall back into that pit of loss. But he didn’t want to ruin this moment, this moment with the three of them together, safe and whole. It was a small blessing, but one he would always be grateful for.

Sypha and Trevor’s slumber was restless. They both tossed and turned, muttering words that either made no sense, or that he couldn’t decipher. They would probably dislike the fact that he was watching them sleep, but he didn’t like the idea of them not having someone to watch over them, should they need to be woken from a nightmare.

All at once, Sypha rolled into him, one arm going around his back and her face pressing into his chest. He went still, feeling as if his breath were trapped in his lungs, as if the slightest movement on his part would break the spell, and she would turn away. Then Trevor rolled back over, hand groping blindly. His arm reached across Sypha, grabbing a handful of Adrian’s shirt, Sypha’s back against his chest.

It was as if another spell had been cast, both of them going still and silent. He felt their bodies relax, the tension bleeding out of them slowly. After that, they didn’t stir, Sypha’s breath a warm tickle against his chest, and Trevor snoring softly into her hair. The thought that they could find comfort in him, even if only with such complete exhaustion they weren’t even aware of it, was enough to let him find his own rest, even daring to put an arm around Sypha, the back of his hand brushing Trevor’s chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start on the cleaning up. But there's more than just blood and dirt and debris to deal with.

The last to fall asleep, Adrian was also the first to wake. He looked down at the two humans, both still lost the world, and felt his smile widen until he could feel it in his cheeks. The pain wasn’t gone, still a raw open wound in his mind and heart. But seeing Trevor and Sypha, the Hunter and the Scholar, fast asleep and laying so close to him, _holding _him… As Sypha stirred, he pulled his arm back, closing his eyes again.

Sypha blinked, rubbing at the sleep in her eyes. Adrian’s pale face swam into view, eyes closed and expression more relaxed than she’d ever seen. Then she realized that her palms were pressed into his chest, and her legs were tangled with his _and _Trevor’s. The weight settled over her was Trevor’s arm, his warm chest pressed firmly into her back.

Heat flickered in the pit of her stomach, and she covered her face in her hands. She was mortified! And yet… Slowly, she lowered her hands, looking up at Adrian again. Did… did vampires, even half human ones, really _have_ to sleep? Biting her lip, she reached out slowly and touched his cheek, yanking back when his eyes opened again.

The look he gave her was far softer than she’d expected, and she lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I must have gotten cold in my sleep…” 

Then she noticed that Trevor’s arm wasn’t just wrapped around _her_. His hand was loosely curled in the fabric of Adrian’s sleeve, and as she shifted her legs slightly, she realized that Trevor had hooked a leg with Adrian’s as well. She looked back up. There was color in Adrian’s cheeks, and his eyes slid away from hers. Sypha had felt something move when she was waking; could it have been _Adrian’s_ arm around her as well?

Uncertain and hopeful, she lifted a hand to Adrian’s cheek again, his golden eyes widening slightly as they snapped back to her. He didn’t move, or try to brush her hand away. He didn’t make a sound as her fingertips trailed down to his mouth, brushing, feather-light, over his lips. They parted slightly, and she felt his quick, silent intake of air.

Then Trevor moved, Sypha and Adrian yanking apart as the hunter withdrew from them both, rolling onto his back to stretch. “Fuck,” he muttered vehemently. “Everything fucking hurts.”

“You’re lucky it just hurts, Belmont,” Adrian said. “You could just as easily be dead.”

“I wasn’t the one getting my head bashed into the floor,” Trevor muttered back. He sat up and looked sleepily over at the other two. There was space between them, but they were still facing each other, and _both_ of them were blushing.

His stomach twisted sharply. Of course. Blood-sucking thing aside, he could understand why Sypha would be attracted to Alucard. Tall, strong, gentlemanly. Alucard knew how to be _nice_. The jealousy settled in his stomach like a stone. He didn’t like it. They were his _friends_, or the closest he would ever have; he should be happy for them.

Adrian’s face fell; he could smell the change in Trevor’s mood. That was the last thing he wanted; to come between the two of them. Despite the welcoming warmth of the bed, he sat up and left it, pulling on his coat again. He moved to add a few more logs to the fire.

“I’ll see if I can put together some provisions for the two of you,” he said. 

“Wait, what?” Trevor scowled at his back. Despite the hurt in his chest, he wasn’t about to go back on what he’d said before. “Provisions for what?”

“I’d assumed you would want to find Sypha’s family,” Adrian said, tone flat and calm. “To add the tale of Dracula’s defeat to your memory stores.”

Sypha sat up, scowling properly now. “Of course, we do,” she snapped. “But not yet. We said we weren’t going anywhere! Yes, Dracula became a monster when he lost your mother, but he was your father before all that! We’re not leaving after you…” She trailed off, the anger going out of her. “It’s okay to mourn the man, too, Adrian,” she said quietly.

They were all silent for a long time. Trevor even began to contemplate _whistling_. Finally, Adrian straightened, still looking at the fire. “Thank you,” he said softly. The open rawness of his voice made Trevor both intensely uncomfortable, but also filled him with the need to just… _hug_ the man. And Trevor Belmont was _not_ a hugger.

Sypha, on the other hand…

She walked right over, stopping in front of Adrian. His eyes were downcast, but lifted when she reached out and took his hands in hers. “I am so sorry, Adrian,” she said softly. “I am so, _so_ sorry for your loss.”

Adrian felt the burn of tears, felt the pit of pain and loss yawning open inside of him. But he blinked the tears away, and smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said again, and both of them could hear the tremor in his voice.

But he pulled away quickly, walking brusquely to the door. “If you’re going to be staying, we’ll find you some proper clothes. Father always insisted we have spares in case we had guests that… I don’t know.” He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that they were following. “Apparently Mother had a hand in it as well… hospitality and all that.”

Neither of them pressed him on it, and he was grateful. He would be ready to talk about them someday. Just… not today. He led them down the hall of guest rooms to the very end. The door he stopped at was much less ornate, but just as large when it opened. Trevor started slightly as the torches—if you could call them that, made of glass bulbs and weird glowing wires inside—flickered on when Adrian flipped a tiny switch on the wall.

“You sure your father wasn’t a witch, too?” he muttered, eying the glowing bulbs with obvious distrust.

Adrian turned, looking confused for a moment. Then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My father _did_ practice magic, but _that_,” he pointed at the light bulb, “is _not_ magic. It’s electricity.”

“See, that sounds like a type of magic to me,” Trevor said.

Adrian opened his mouth to argue, then held up his hands and took a breath. “I won’t argue with you. Your stupid might rub off on me.” He gestured further into the room, which they now realized was lined with shelves, hangers and drawers, full of all manner of clothing. “The menswear is on the left, women’s on the right.”

Sypha perked up slightly as she moved towards the right wall. “They’re so pretty!” she said softly, gently touching something made of gauzy lilac fabric. “Your parents had these just for _guests_?”

“Sypha, you actually sound like you would have _wanted_ to be a guest in Dracula’s castle,” Trevor muttered, thumbing through what felt like an infinite amount of white shirts with lace frills at the sleeves, and necklines that went far lower than he was used to, and even _those_ had lace.

“I mean, if this is how he treated his guests, I don’t think I would have minded an invitation,” she said, pulling out a frothy white thing full of lace and ribbons. “Is this a nightgown or a wedding dress? I can’t really tell…”

“You are currently browsing the sleepwear,” Alucard said. “Are you looking for something more practical? Mother wasn’t fond of dressing up, and insisted we have some more… Some less…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words.

“Less vampire-y?” Sypha suggested.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Adrian’s mouth. “Yes. Less _vampire-y_ clothing. It’s just… Ah. Here.” He brought her over to a decidedly less frilly section with more sedate colors.

Trevor had managed to find a white shirt with_out_ any lace. It had a high collar that he actually kind of liked, but the lacing of the front was very loose, the neckline going into a much deeper V that he was used to. When he tugged on the laces to tighten the shirt and cover his chest slightly, it made the neck much too tight. Grumbling, he loosened the shirt again, and set off in what was probably a vain attempt to find pants that weren’t ridiculously tight leather.

“Are there any trousers in this place?” Sypha grumbled. “That _aren’t_ for unreasonably tall vampires?” 

She had found smallclothes that seemed to be the right size, a linen undershirt, and some stockings. She hadn’t exactly been dressed for the cooler weather in her robes. “Oh, I supposed this will do.” She found an underskirt and a pale green wool dress, with darker green vines ornamented with white flowers along the hem, neckline, and cuffs. _Those_ were lacy, but with as warm as the dress would be, she didn’t mind.

“Adrian, where would I find a garter belt?” she asked, not turning.

Trevor made a slightly strangled noise on the other side of the room. “Sypha!” he sputtered. “Y-you can’t just—”

“Really, Trevor, don’t be such a prude,” Sypha muttered, but Adrian could see the smile playing at her lips. He wordlessly opened several drawers before gesturing her over. “Ah! Perfect! Now, is there a screen to preserve our Lord Belmont’s modesty?”

“I am _not_ a prude!” Trevor snapped, spinning around with two pairs of trousers in hand, gesturing emphatically with one of them. “You can’t just… put ideas in people’s heads!” Even under his tan, his cheeks were pink.

“Ideas?” Sypha was grinning wickedly when she turned around, waving the garter belt in front of her. “Are you thinking about what I’ll look like in them, Trevor?” The blush deepened and he looked like he was trying to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth. Adrian hid his chuckle and his smile, though the knot in his chest loosened slightly. Sypha’s expression softened, folding the undergarment back into her armful of clothes. “You know, Trevor, if my teasing bothers you, you _can_ tell me to stop. I really only want to _tease_ you, not make you _actually_ uncomfortable…”

Oh, Fuck. Now Sypha looked upset. 

“N-no! You’re fine! It’s fine! I’m not… well, maybe a _little_…” Trevor groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking stubbornly to the side. “I just… forget it. It’s fine.”

Not at all convinced, Sypha walked over him, moving to stand in his line of sight. He stubbornly shifted his eyes. “Just what?” she prompted.

Another growling grumble, and his hand raking through his hair. “Mother taught me to be nice to women, alright?” he said in a rush. “She was a very frightening woman and ensured I understood what would happen to me if I wasn’t. Nice to women, I mean.”

“Good God, there’s a shred of chivalry in you after all, Belmont,” Alucard said, but his tone was gentle, maybe even fond.

Sypha was smiling, and nodded approvingly. “Good for her. And you_ still_ know what will happen if you aren’t nice to me, don’t you, Trevor?”

“Yes, yes, you’ll set me on _fire_,” Trevor muttered.

“Exactly. But don’t worry about all that… noble stuff,” she said with a wave of her hand. If I don’t want you to see something, I’ll tell you. I don’t really care if you see me naked or see my underthings. Now, if you start _pilfering_ them, that’s another matter.”

“I’m not going to be pilfering anything!” Trevor said. “Well, except maybe some wine from the cellar. Vampires still like wine, don’t they?”

“You will _not_ be finding the wine cellar, Belmont,” Adrian said primly. “Its contents are far too good for the likes of _you_.”

“Oh, fuck off, you rich snob; it all tastes the same!” Trevor turned back to the clothes, and missed the positively scandalized and offended look on the dhampir’s face. Adrian opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then snapped it shut, and turned on his heel. Sypha followed with a grin, and Trevor trailed after, grumbling under his breath.

000

Trevor ceased his grumbling when a long bout of wandering—and avoiding piles of ash inside suits of armor, as well as stopping to get dressed—lead them to what was unmistakably a kitchen. There were quite a lot of bits of shattered pottery and broken jars with their contents strewn about, but there were still baskets of potatoes and other vegetables. 

Alucard leaned against the wall, silently bemoaning the fact that one of his only two friends in the world was an utterly unrefined, tasteless, and idiotic excuse for a man. Sypha perked up immediately, and began poking through cupboards and cabinets. After harassing Trevor into helping, they were able to scrape together enough to make a decent human breakfast. 

“What the fuck would _Dracula_ need sausages for?” Trevor muttered, sniffing at the meat they’d found in a room that was colder than it had any business being. A slightly horrifying thought occurred to him. “They’re not _people_ are they?”

“Vampires consume the _blood_ of humans, not the flesh,” Adrian muttered, moving from the wall to come and take a brief sniff at the sausages. “Well, civilized ones, anyway. No, those are pork.”

“I can’t believe you had _butter_!” Sypha said excitedly, already lighting a fire under one of the stoves. “And _tea_!” She walked over to an open hearth and lit another, taking the kettle from the hook above it, presumably to brew said tea. On her way over to the sink she snatched up the sausages.

“That still doesn’t explain why _Dracula_, a _vampire_, had pork sausages,” Trevor said.

“You’ll recall that he had a human wife and half human son,” Adrian said airily. “And just because vampires need blood to survive doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy eating other things.”

“I don’t care _why_,” Sypha said, eying the faucet hanging over the sink and the two knobs on either side, one made of red glass, and the other blue. “I just know that clearing out those corpses is going to require us eating a proper breakfast.” She reached out and turned the red knob, then squeaked as water came gushing out of the faucet.

“Careful,” Adrian cautioned. “That will get very hot in a moment.” Trevor grumbled something under his breath, having taken up one of the few unbroken chairs. “It’s not magic, Belmont. There’s a large boiler—well, _that_ is fueled by magic—but the boiler heats water which is pumped through the house through pipes.”

“Sounds like witchcraft to me,” Trevor insisted.

“I _could_ get you the books that explain it…” Adrian said, something a bit sharper in the smile curving his lips, “but you wouldn’t be able to read them would you?”

“Hey, I can _read_,” Trever retorted, “just not in a hundred fucking languages like you two sods.”

“It’s bad luck to insult both your host, _and _the person making your breakfast,” Adrian said, smirk firmly in place now. This was comfortable; the bickering, the insults. This was… easy. _Infinitely _easier than what was waiting for him in the rest of the castle. And he wasn’t talking about the monster corpses and the piles of dead vampire ash.

Trevor opened his mouth, but Sypha beat him to it. “He’s right, you know. I might just tell you to find your own breakfast.”

“I mean, you _were_ the one who tried to cook eggs on hot coals.” It was Trevor’s turn to smirk. 

“It had been two _days_ since we’d slept!” Sypha said, gesturing with the knife she had found to chop up the potatoes. Adrian was smirking at her now. 

“It was beautiful,” Trevor said, leaning away from the Speaker magician with the large knife. “They exploded all over! Completely worth the burns on my face!”

“I stand by my first impression,” Sypha said stiffly, chopping the potatoes with a bit more force that necessary. “You are _rude_.”

“It was _rude_ to blow up an egg in my face,” he shot back.

Adrian sat back while they went back and forth, the bickering turning into something more playful, that his mother might have called flirting. He was struck by a bittersweet longing; his mother would have _loved_ Sypha. Probably Trevor, too, as there was a genuinely good man under layers of muck and ego. His father… his father would probably have liked Sypha, too, with her sharp mind and thirst for knowledge.

Trevor… Adrian laughed quietly and shook his head. Vlad Dracula Tepes would _never_ have liked Trevor Belmont, last of his line or not. And he would likely have scorned Trevor’s ignorance and hardheadedness just as Adrian did, but… He would probably have come to respect his loyalty and fierce determination to protect what he held dear. What little there was of it, anyway.

The undertone of the thoughts was bitter pain, but the idea of Sypha and Lisa chattering away in the lab, and Trevor and Dracula eyeing each other icily from across the room, was something… Sweet wasn’t the word, exactly. But he didn’t feel quite so raw when he thought of the ‘could have been’. It was nice, actually, and he even smiled when Sypha handed him tea in one of the few mugs that had managed to avoid destruction.

Once there was food in front of him, Trevor stopped his complaining in favor of stuffing his face. When a plate was handed to him as well, Alucard blinked up at Sypha, tea in one hand and plate in the other. 

“You said you don’t_ need_ blood, and we’ll talk about how hard to believe that is _later_,” she said, using a tone that was a bit too close to a stern mother than Adrian was strictly comfortable with, “but if your father could enjoy human food, so can you. I worked hard, so _eat_.” Again, a tone that brooked no argument.

“Not a _word_, Belmont,” Adrian muttered as he sat down across from the other man at the table, a shit-eating grin on the human’s face.

“Oh, I didn’t say anything,” Trevor responded cheerily, then winced as Sypha prodded him in the ribs.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Adrian allowed himself a small, smug grin as he ate. It was simple fare, but Sypha had a good grasp of seasoning, and there was more to it than just salt and pepper. It was good. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with anyone. Again, that bittersweet sort of longing. But it wasn’t sharp or painful. 

Probably because Sypha and Trevor were so very different from his parents. They were both loud and brash, more than a little crass, and about as far from refined as people could get. But they were good people. Well, Sypha was. Trevor was… trying. Though he supposed having your entire family murdered at the lovely age of twelve _would_ be a bit of a damper on your social skills and graces.

Sypha was the only one among them that had had any semblance of a normal childhood, Adrian realized. At least, he _thought_ she had. Her parents were obviously gone, but she was hardly an orphan. If Trevor could be believed, she’d had many people worried sick when she had vanished under Gresit, not just her grandfather. They were probably worried still, after what she’d set out to do…

“Is… is there any way to get word to them?” he said suddenly. “The Speakers, I mean.” He looked away. “If you insist on staying—”

“We _do_,” Sypha said firmly. 

“Is there a way to know where they’ll be? To send them a message?” The softening of his tone spoke to the guilt he was feeling at keeping them here.

But Sypha just smiled and shrugged. “I know the general path we were taking. But I think they changed course to avoid… that whole mess.” She frowned briefly, then shook her head. “I’m more worried about what that village down the road will do now that a giant spooky castle that appeared out of nowhere on the ruins of the Belmont home.”

Trevor looked startled and concerned, and Adrian raised a brow at him. “You really hadn’t thought about that?”

The confusion faded to something darker. “Didn’t really _want_ to think about that village, to be honest.” He pushed the last chunk of potato around on his plate, glaring at the undeserving root vegetable as if _it_ were the cause of all his troubles.

It was _far_ too early to start delving into their combined horde of past hurts. Instead, Sypha collected her and Adrian’s empty plates and took them to the sink. “I think we should find a way to seal the library first,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Perhaps we could fell some trees and use them to make a temporary cover, and I could move some dirt to just make it look like a small hill…” She tapped her chin in thought, leaning her hip against the table. 

The dress gave her a very different silhouette than the Speaker’s robes she had worn throughout the rest of their journey. It was… pleasant. She was quite tall, only a few inches shorter than Trevor. And from the way the skirt of her dress ended a bit below her knees, most of her height was her legs. He blinked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are those… my boots?” he asked.

“Are they?” Sypha looked down. “They were in the closet and fit well enough. I can find something—”

Adrian waved a hand. “No, that’s fine. They’re from… well, they’re old, at any rate. You might as well get some use out of them.”

“Thank you, Adrian.” 

Oh, the shape of her body had _nothing_ on that smile. She was an expressive woman, and wasn’t stingy with her smiles. But having one directed at him—_just_ him—was almost more than he could bear. It was a barely remembered softness, something he was sure he’d known before but… different. Shit. This delving into _feelings_ and _emotion_ would do him no good. He stood, pushing his chair back in.

“I’ll gather the corpses outside,” he said briskly. “Belmont, pick up any armor that isn’t ruined and put it in a pile. It may come in use later.” Then he had turned and headed out the door.

Sypha looked after him, her smile fading. She looked at Trevor, but he seemed to be still mourning the loss of the rest of the day to actual _work_. She pinched his bicep sharply. “Ow! What now?”

She ignored his wounded look. “Go help him.”

“He can lift those things like I’d lift feathers, he doesn’t need—ow! What the fuck, Sypha?!” His irritation dropped away at the look on her face. She was almost in _tears_, eyes glimmering with them. “What? Why’re you…” He trailed off, following her line of sight to the door. “Oh.” His anger deflated and he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He really was worried about the fangy bastard, wasn’t he? Alucard had seemed to be his normal self that morning, so it had been easy to forget just how much he had to be hurting. But what the fuck was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry your mum got burned at the stake and your dad went fucking crazy and tried to end the world?’ That probably would be about as helpful as… Well, it wouldn’t be helpful at all.

“You, of all people, know that I am the _last_ person that should try to talk to him,” he finally said.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Sypha waved a hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “But… you _do_ understand what he’s feeling. Better than I do, at any rate.”

Why did she have to be right all the time? It really wasn’t fair. All at once he was tired again. Not with the physical fatigue of the better part of the last month, but something… _inside_ him, tired down to his bones. It was an old, familiar ache. It was what the raw, festering wound of his family’s death had become over the years. It just reminded him how much their usually stoic friend had to be hurting.

“Fuck me…”

“If that’s what helps him, sure,” Sypha said with a shrug, unable to resist trying to lighten the mood, and cackling as Trevor flushed and sputtered. “I’m sorry, Trevor; I couldn’t help myself.” She shook her head. “I’m just used to being able to solve my problems quickly. Usually with magic.” She pushed a hand through her curls. “But this isn’t one of those problems. And he’s our friend, isn’t he?”

Thinking it to himself, and hearing it said out loud were apparently very different. “What? No! He’s _not_… shit.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his table, head in his hands. “Yeah… yeah, he is…”

“Don’t get too excited about it,” she said dryly.

“Look… shit.” Trevor scrubbed his hands over his face. “We’ll just… fuck. I dunno. Clean up corpses I guess.” He pushed away from the table, stretching his arms over his head until his back popped. “Not like he needs help moving that shit though…”

“Trevor!”

“I’m going, I’m going!”

000

The monsters were easy. Adrian gathered the pieces of them in a pile by the front door, tossing some from all the way across the hall. After dropping the last corpse—mostly in one piece—with the rest, Adrian paused, looking up at the doors. They hadn’t been broken so much as the locks had failed, a mangled mess of metal fittings scattered on the floor. They could probably bar it with a few hefty pieces of wood, and use one of the ‘secret’ side entrances for their comings and goings.

They were staying.

They were really _staying_.

Adrian had to laugh, shaking his head. Of all his boyhood dreams of the friends he might have, a Belmont and a Speaker Magician had never even crossed his mind. He had assumed other vampires, perhaps tree spirits with as much time as he’d spent in the woods. He’d even considered ghosts. Human’s hadn’t been _completely_ outside the realm of possibility, but it hadn’t really been something he’d ever seriously considered.

And now there he was, with two human worrying after him. He’d heard Trevor’s heartbeat the moment he entered the great hall, but only turned when the hunter was right behind him, unable to resist at least trying to make him jump. And jump Trevor did, hand instinctively reaching for the whip at his belt.

“Jesus Ch—! Fucking ass…” His curse became a mutter, and he glared. “And here I was, coming to help you out of the goodness of my heart…” He placed a hand on his chest in a mockery of wounded dignity, and Adrian snorted.

“I’ve got all the corpses, Belmont,” he said. “I believe I asked you to gather up the armor? I was thinking of asking Sypha to use some of her wind magic to blow all the ashes down here and out the door…”

“That’d save a helluva lot of time sweeping,” Trevor agreed.

“Looking to get out of cleaning up your mess?” Another soft snort of laughter. “But yes, I suppose it would.”

“Look, I didn’t kill _all_ of those vampires,” Trevor said, eyes narrowing. “I remember you taking out a fair lot, too.”

“Oh? Is that praise I hear?”

That smug look of his had _no right_ being attractive. Trevor had always been attracted to full, dark lips, perfect for kissing and… other things. Yet somehow Alucard’s thin mouth looked almost—no. Nope. Not following _that_ line of thought. He was supposed to be _helping_ Alucard, not fantasizing about him.

Wait… fantasizing? No! Not doing that. Not _at all_.

Cheeks warm, Trevor turned on his heel, stalking over to the nearest pile of empty armor and uniform. It was a bit scorched from when the previous owner… well… _exploded_. But otherwise in good condition. The cloth of the uniform was ruined anyway, and he didn’t care that it ripped when he pulled it out of the armor. 

He _did_ care about the large puff of vampire ashes that flew into the air and his face, making him sneeze, cough, and hack for a period of several minutes. Then the thought of what was actually _in_ his mouth, nose, and eyes made him nearly gag, and he started coughing all over again, loud enough that he didn’t hear the muffled laughter from the dhampir on the other end of the hall.

But once Trevor had control of his lungs again, he noticed the slight prickle at the back of his neck, the sensation familiar enough now that he knew that Adrian was watching him. He pointedly ignored it, and started two piles. One of ruined uniforms and armor too warped or dented to be of use, and the other of armor that could be useful. At some point. For something. Maybe. What did vampires even _make_ armor out of? Was it just fae that couldn’t stand the touch of iron? The armor felt too light to be steel, and steel was related to iron, wasn’t it? 

Eventually, he got so tied up in his own head that he forgot about Alucard watching him, looking up only at the sound of distant thumping. The dhampir was standing in the doorway hurling chunks of corpses outside as if they didn’t weigh anything at all. Trevor had fought some of those monsters; they weighed _a lot_.

“Show off,” Trevor muttered. 

The pile of ruined armor and uniforms ended up being the biggest, and Adrian sorted out the armor to be melted down. Though where _that_ would be taking place, Trevor hadn’t the faintest idea. Outside, they added the uniforms to the pile of monsters. 

“Do you think Sypha will need wood?” Trevor asked, eying the remains of the battering ram that had broken the door open.

“A wood fire wouldn’t be strong enough to burn their corpses. I’m not even sure _her_ fire can, as some of them appeared flame retardant.”

“Flame what?”

“Re—it means they’re resistant to fire; it doesn’t do much against them,” Adrian supplied.

“Then why not just say that?”

“It takes longer.”

They drifted into silence, staring at the pile. The silence stretched, and felt almost as if it had _weight_. Finally, Trevor opened his mouth. “Alu—Adrian! Adrian, I…”

“You needn’t bother, Bel—Trevor.” They were both getting used to their new names. “I’m… I’ll be fine.”

“Nice catch, there,” Trevor said, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But you’re right, you know. You _will_ be alright. We’re not leaving until you are. Maybe we’ll make you come with us.”

That gave Adrian pause, and he looked over at the other man. “Go with you?” he said, and Trevor wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or not. Adrian’s face was the picture of blinking confusion, as if he had never even _considered_ that as a possibility. The openness of the expression made Trevor look away.

“Well… yeah. You know. When we go find the Speakers. Figured you’d want to, well, come with us?” He scratched the back of his head, suddenly very interested in the surrounding landscape. “And there’s probably vampires still running around, and maybe a few monsters… So… it might not be, you know, the _worst_ idea to have you around…” God he was _shit_ at this. “If you _want_, anyway.”

Warmth unfurled in Adrian’s chest, and he almost reached out to the other man. Instead, he smiled and shook his head, crossing his arms loosely. “I don’t think… I honestly never thought about _after_,” he said quietly.

Trevor glanced back, looking the dhampir up and down. His eyes widened briefly in realization. “You… you didn’t expect to live through this… did you?” he ventured.

The smile Adrian turned on him was both sad and wistful. “Not really, no. You’ll remember, the first time I tried to fight my father, I was grievously injured that I had to sleep for an entire _year_.”

Trevor winced. “Right… ah…” More looking away, more scratching the back of his head. “Dracula was an ass. I mean, he _was_ your father first, and… shit. What I’m _trying _to say is… I _am_ sorry. About, you know…” Fuck. Why had he agreed to this? He was _shit_ at this! Sypha was _so_ much better at—

“Thank you, Trevor.”

The quiet words were almost too soft to hear, Adrian’s voice having dropped to little more than a whisper. The drastic change in tone, and the use of Trevor’s _first_ name made him look over, startled. Adrian wasn’t _quite_ looking at him, his golden eyes distant and his expression… Trevor didn’t know _what_ that expression meant. 

Adrian knew he could have cried then, could feel the warmth of tears gathering in his eyes and the lump rising in his throat. The cold, vampire detachment he’d been able to maintain was now tenuous at _best_. He’d had to learn a balance between his human emotions and his more vampiric nature. The passion of humanity could bolster the bloodlust and viciousness of his other half, so he’d learned to create strict distinctions between the two, leaning more on the calm of the vampire than his more human half. The half his mother had given him.

But she was gone, now. So was his father. He was all that was left of the legacy they had dreamed of, spoken of when they thought that Adrian was in bed sleeping. His mother had dreamed of a world kind to _all_ of its children, and his father had wanted nothing more than to have his wife’s dream become reality. They had truly loved each other. Loved _him_.

His vision blurred, and he closed his eyes, a few tears escaping and rolling down his pale cheeks. They caught the light, and Trevor watched as Adrian’s lips parted, and heard the quiet exhale of a shaky breath. His arms were crossed more tightly now, almost as if trying to hold himself. A sympathetic ache tightened Trevor’s chest, and he found himself moving without thinking, taking a few steps and reaching out to the taller man. 

Adrian didn’t flinch at the weight of Trevor’s hand settling hesitantly on his shoulder, and he didn’t quite dare open his eyes. But when Trevor squeezed gently, and Adrian heard him take a breath to speak again, it was more than he could bear. His teeth clenched and bared in an effort to quiet the pain trying to claw its way out of him, one of his own hands lifting to clutch at Trevor’s on his shoulder.

Trever had never known Adrian to _shake_. But he felt the trembling in the dhampir’s hand, and saw the tendons standing out in his neck as he clenched his teeth. Trevor didn’t know how to deal with crying. He had vague memories of one or two of his sisters doing it, but it had been their mother and father that consoled them. Trevor was pretty sure that the last time he’d cried was the night he realized that he was truly alone.

But he wasn’t alone now.

Now it was _Adrian_ who felt alone. Looking back, Trevor supposed he could have dealt with that loss better; not tried to drink and fight the pain away. But he also didn’t know what else he would have done, thrown out into the world as young as he had been. He didn’t know the ‘healthy’ way to deal with this. But he was pretty sure that locking yourself up in a creepy, shitty castle wasn’t healthy, either. 

And it was probably a bad idea to be _alone_. Okay, it was _definitely_ a bad idea.

“Ah, shit.” Before Adrian could pull away with a muttered apology, Trevor yanked him in, arm going around his back as the other lifted to complete the embrace. It was the thing that he’d wanted the most those first few weeks alone, to feel his mother or father’s embrace on those cold nights spent in the wilds. He didn’t know if it would have helped, but it was what he desperately longed for after _his_ loss, so maybe it would help Adrian.

The moment he felt the very human warmth wrap around him, the last threads of Adrian’s control snapped. He had been a passionate child, feeling each and every emotion with a depth born only of youth and innocence. His mother had often calmed him by simply gathering him into her arms and speaking with him softly until he calmed. Everything came pouring out of him all over again, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the back of Trevor’s shirt, golden head bowing to press into Trevor’s shoulder.

Unafraid of hurting him, Trevor squeezed tightly, holding Adrian close. The words came more easily then; heartfelt apologies and words of understanding for his loss. Adrian had lost his father _twice_. Once, when his mother died, and again, at his own hands. Trevor couldn’t imagine that, couldn’t imagine how fucking heartbreaking it would have been to try to reason with the man that had raised you, _loved_ you, and to be met only with violence and pain.

Unthinking, Trevor turned pressed a brief kiss to Adrian’s temple, similar to the one he’d given the previous night. Just a simple gesture of comfort. But the fact that Trevor _fucking_ Belmont had reached out that way tripped something in Adrian. His head and one hand lifted, the hand grabbing the back of Trevor’s head and yanking him into a kiss. 

It was a desperate thing, made salty by the tears on the dhampir’s cheeks. Trevor responded before he had fully wrapped his head around what was happening, his lips forming to Adrian’s and his tongue flicking gently at the seam of Adrian’s lips. Adrian made a soft, sort of choked noise, meeting the tongue with his as the kiss deepened briefly.

Almost simultaneously, the two broke apart, but didn’t let go of one another. They just stared, faces mirror expressions of blushing surprise. Adrian hear footsteps in the hall, and the strange hum that Sypha’s magic always put into the air. He let go of Trevor and they stepped apart as a _massive_ cloud of swirling dust burst through the doors, Sypha following with her glowing hands sweeping in slow, elegant motions.

Then she threw her hands forward and the rising wind abruptly dissipated, sending what they now realized were ashes flying off into the distant sky. She waved happily at them, dusting her hands on an apron that she had found as she walked over. As she drew near, she saw pink standing out on Adrian’s cheeks, rising up to his ears. It was harder to spot a blush on Trevor with his darker skin, but the flush _was_ there, as well as his avoidance of her gaze and the scratching the back of his neck.

Sypha’s eyes narrowed slightly as he approached, looking between the two of them. When she reached them, she was wearing a frown and her hands on her hips. “Are you two fighting again?” she asked.

“No!” Trevor said, and even he knew he’d spoken too quickly. Thankfully, Adrian came to his rescue.

“No, Belmont was attempting to offer his condolences,” he said, somehow having transformed back into the calm, implacable dhampir prince that the two humans were familiar with. “A bumbling attempt, but…” He looked over, and one side of his mouth lifted. _‘But no less heartfelt…’_ he thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART TWO! This is all I have typed and edited so far, but I'm still working on the rest. Maybe two more chapters?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF TIME!

Apparently, once dead, whatever magic had given the demons resistance to fire was gone, and they burned just fine. But it took a constant effort on Sypha’s part, and while Adrian went back and forth to bring her food, Trevor had gone to survey the opening of the Belmont hold. There were demon corpses down there two, if he remembered correctly. And a lot of blood.

In between fetching food for Sypha, Adrian went down and brought them out. Feeling particularly useless, and not liking it at all, Trevor set about gathering wooden rubble that might be of use to create some kind of cover for the hold. The sun was setting when Sypha and Adrian came over to him, surveying his work. It wasn’t much, but with a tree she sliced into rough boards, Sypha made it into something sturdy. 

Watching her call up the _ground_ itself to fold over the makeshift door was more than a little unsettling. The earth wasn’t _supposed _to move like liquid, undulating up and crawling over the logs and boards like a living thing. Adrian carefully lay some of the stones on it to make it better match the surrounding landscape. Stepping back, they all considered it.

“It will do for now,” Adrian said with a shrug. “Now, I am going to go see about fixing the kitchen.”

Sypha and Trevor followed as he turned having to jog a bit to catch up. “That’s going to take a while,” Trevor pointed out.

A small shake of a gold head. “Hm? Oh, no. I meant the magic that keeps it supplied. What we used today was just what was there when someone destroyed the rune work.”

“Rune work?” Sypha moved to walk in front of him now, turning around and walking backwards. “What kind?” The light was back in her eyes, smile full of curiosity. “Is it what keeps that small room cold? Or something with the pipes you mentioned? Can I help?” 

She nearly stumbled as they reached the steps to the castle, and Adrian chuckled softly. It was impossible not to, with her sky colored eyes alight with interest and her smile beaming at him like a summer sun. He idly wondered if such a thing would be harmful to full-blooded vampires. 

“No, he said. “It keeps it stocked and cleaned. Usually with exactly what the cook working there requires.”

A small hand grabbed his wrist, and he allowed himself to be pulled to a halt. “Will it have _chocolate_?” Sypha asked, her expression now one of hope and determination.

Perhaps it was because his control was at a low ebb. Or maybe because he was still a bit… flustered about the kiss with Trevor. But Adrian couldn’t help laughing. It was a _real_ laugh, and Sypha and Trevor stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. He just breezed past them and down the hall that led to the kitchens.

Sypha looked at Trevor a long moment. He looked as baffled as she _felt_. But… it had to be a good thing, right? 

“What did you _do_?” she said in an awed whisper. “I’ve never… He’s never…” She was just staring after Adrian now, too stunned to really think about moving.

Guilt suddenly dropped down on Trevor. He’d been mooning over Sypha since the moment she called down a ring of magical fire to protect him. He hadn’t _said_ anything, of course, but it felt… wrong, to have kissed—no! _Adrian_ had done the kissing, not him! He had just… been caught up in the moment. Or something. It wasn’t his fault that Adrain’s lips were softer than anyone that Trevor had ever—Goddammit! There his brain went _again_! He liked _Sypha_, dammit! It wasn’t fair to her!

He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a grumbling sigh. “Nothing. Just… said I was sorry for his loss.” She raised a brow at him. “I did! That’s what people _do_, isn’t it?”

“Well… yes,” Sypha admitted, her interest in a magic kitchen and the possibility of chocolate stirring her back into motion. “Whatever you said, he seems… good.”

_‘Yeah…’_ Trevor thought, following. Even with his tangle of conflicted feelings and guilty thoughts, he _was_ glad that Adrian seemed better. At least for now. Maybe that was all they could do; giving him little bits of laughter or joy—_and_ annoyance, Trevor remined himself—while he worked his way through the dung pile of what he had to be feeling.

000

The bastard was still quick, and cheated, too. Well, if a half-vampire who inherited his father’s—_Dracula’s_—castle _could_ cheat by using his vampire powers to get to the kitchen before anyone else. Trevor and Sypha arrived just in time to see him vanish through the kitchen door. Sypha made a sound of irritation, picking up her pace and leaving Trevor behind.

He wasn’t upset, and found himself smiling after the two of them. God, he was doing a _lot_ of that lately. Smiling. And not because he’d made enough coin for a good night of drinking, or because it didn’t rain when he was sleeping out in the open. He was smiling for… _normal_ reasons. 

Trevor stopped outside the kitchen door, not listening to Sypha rattling off a series of rapid-fire complex magical questions that he wouldn’t have understood anyway. When was the last time he had just… _smiled_? Because he was _happy_? God, his life had been shit.

Well, no moment of clarity _there_. He’d known that already.

But the smiling just for amusement’s sake, or out of _fondness_… the expression felt almost… wrong on his face. Like he’d known how before but had been so out of practice that his mind didn’t remember how it worked. But his body did. He shook his head to dislodge the introspective thoughts; he was _thinking _a lot more lately, too. Bad habit, that.

Sypha peered over Adrian’s shoulder, having to rise up on her tiptoes to do so. In fact, a foot stool would not have been amiss. The runes were cut into one of the stones in the wall. A chunk of the corner had been broken away when something hard—vampire body part?—collided with it. She could see where the missing piece of stone cut into the complex block of runes.

“Is that…?” She squinted, hands on his shoulder now as she tilted her head and leaned in slightly. “Enochian?” It certainly wasn’t like any Enochian _she’d_ ever come across.

Adrian smiled without looking at her, the warm pressure of her hands leaking through his coat. “It has its base there,” he finally said. “Father used a code in all of his personal magic workings. It’s… complicated.” And _that_ was putting it mildly.

Bending, he poked through the small pile of rubble on the floor, finding a few of the larger chunks with the runes on them. Sypha came around, crouching and poking through the stones as well. Glancing up, Adrian could see the delicate little furrow between her brows, deepening with each passing moment. It was similar to when she as met with a particularly interesting bit of text that she didn’t quite understand, and was trying to puzzle it out.

But she wasn’t really focused on the stones her fingers were sifting through. Her eyes were directed at them, certainly, but the look in them was distant… frustrated. “Something wrong?” he heard himself ask.

Sypha’s head jerked up, a slightly embarrassed flush coloring her cheeks. “Hm? Oh… no, nothing.” She didn’t sound troubled, and her scent had none of the trademarks that anxiety or fear left behind. “Just… thinking.” 

She _wanted_ to ask if Dracula had enchanted the entire castle. She had no doubt that he’d built the massive—and now useless—engine room. But there was magic here as much as science. But she knew that Adrian was probably already neck deep in bittersweet memories of happier times; she shouldn’t add to it just because she was curious.

“About what?” Adrian prodded, before he could think better of it. 

“About what kind of _idiot_ would damage something so amazing!” she said hotly, holding up a chunk of wall with runes worked into it.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it!” Trevor’s voice said from above them.

Sypha jumped and glared up at him before she giggled. Adrian had heard his approach, and didn’t look over, eying the chunk of stone thoughtfully. “For once, you are correct, Belmont. _You_ are, in fact, _not_ the idiot responsible for _this_ particular annoyance.”

Still grinning, Sypha nudged Trevor in the ribs. When he looked over at her, his stomach dropped all over again. She was… _radiant_. God, he sounded like a fucking besotted poet… but… well, she _was_! And Adrian, with his cool, side-long smile as he glanced their way, was just as…

No.

No, no. Not following _those_ thoughts, remember?

“So how the hell does this ‘magic kitchen’ work, exactly?” Trevor asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, trying not to look _too_ interested.

Alucard opened his mouth, blinked, and closed it again. “Well, there are _several_ theories; my father was never specific as to—”

“Hah!” Trevor cut in. “You don’t really know, do you?”

Alucard took on the expression of a cat woken from a nap. “He assured my mother that it _did not_ take food from the mouths and larders of surrounding farms. So, I know that it doesn’t _steal_.”

“Yes, but how _does_ it work?” Trevor needled, mindless of the glare that Sypha had leveled in his direction.

When a chunk rock was tossed at him, Trevor nearly batted it away out of instinct. Thankfully, he caught it instead, turning it until he was peering at the runes carved into it. His eyes lifted. “Well, Belmont? What does your vast and towering intellect make of _that_?”

“You see that, Sypha?” Trevor said, pointing. “He’s throwing _rocks_ at me!” But there was no venom or real complaint in his words, even a light of mischief in his eyes. He tossed the rock back with an easy swing of his arm. 

Sypha watched Adrian catch the rock deftly, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He turned back to the wall, holding the stone up. His brows drew together, the faintest set of wrinkles between them. Sypha felt a soft… fluttering in her chest. Immediately she felt her cheeks warm; she _knew_ she was smitten with the two men, but to get the metaphorical ‘butterflies’ over something so… small surely meant that there was more to her feelings than just ‘smitten’.

Her thoughts were shattered when blue light suddenly glowed from the wall, the chunk of stone Adrian held yanked back into place. The small pile of dust and rubble on the ground spun up into the air, sealing the cracks and forming back into place. A gasp caught in Sypha’s throat, but her attention was drawn away again, clattering and shifting in the rest of the kitchen making her turn.

It was as if someone were running time in reverse. Broken dishes remade themselves, splintered wood smoothed out, flour spun back up into the sack that was zipping the slashes in it closed. Trevor looked to be the human equivalent of a puffed-up cat. Sypha watched at the cracked bowl in the center of the table was filled with fruit, fresh and beautiful.

And then, the dishes they had stacked in the sink were wiped clean, floating through the air and stacking themselves neatly in the cupboard. Adrian’s eyes drifted, catching on the expression of wonder on Sypha’s face the smile slowly spreading across her face, eyes shining.

Trevor looked decidedly less enthused by the flying crockery, but somehow, Adrian found it just as endearing. His chest simultaneously felt tight and ready to burst, a laugh bubbling up in the back of his throat. 

Sypha spun back to him, practically bouncing. “Oh, Aluca—Adrian! How does—? When—? This is magnificent!” She laughed then, bright and happy, darting about the kitchen and examining everything all over again.

Trevor and Adrian watched, similar expressions of fondness on their faces. If Adrian felt Trevor look his way, he didn’t react, and Trevor felt a sort of… lightness in his chest. There was no shadow hiding behind Alucard’s expression, no pain, no darkness. He looked… _happy_. Trevor felt a smile pulling at his lips; ‘happy’ was a good look for Alu—shit, no—_Adrian_.

The fluttering in his stomach on the other hand… Trevor frowned slightly. That wasn’t normal, was it? No, definitely not, because it was the same feeling he got when he looked at _Sypha_. The lightness in his chest, the fluttering in his stomach; Trevor knew what a crush was, he wasn’t stupid. So why was he...

Oh.

Oh _no_.

No! No, no no!

They were perfectly normal, platonic, bonds of brotherhood type feelings, thank you. But when he looked back, the same lightness spread out in his chest, and he felt... he felt good. Watching the two of them smile and begin to talk about magic together felt... right. The worry and panic began to ebb, slowly dying out in favor of... something.

Trevor wasn’t good with feelings, especially his own. But being here with Adrian and Sypha felt right and good. He had been dancing around that feeling of _belonging_ for a while, he realized. The last time he’d belonged somewhere, it had been burned to the ground along with everyone he’d ever loved. This... it would take more than some angry mob of villagers to tear this down.

Fucking _Dracula_ hadn’t even been able to do that.

So... Trevor belonged with these people; this Speaker Magician and a dhampir swordsman. Sypha Belnades and Adrian Tepes. His... His what? Family?

He sighed and shook his head, a rueful smile on his face when Sypha looked over. His stomach dropped when she turned the full force of her smile on him. It was a different thing... observing the smile from the side rather than having the full force of it directed at you. And then Adrian was looking too and Trevor realized that he was done for.

His feelings were the same. The light, happy feeling blooming in his chest didn’t change when his eyes went from Sypha to Adrian. He felt the same about the both of them.

Fuck.

_Shit._

Right... that was a thing then.

Sypha saw something in Trevor’s face; the discomfort at flying dishes had morphed into something warm and fond, cheeks flushing and eyes brightening when he looked at her... and then again, when he looked at _Adrian_. The idea that she wasn’t alone in her feelings came with a flood of hopeful relief. She looked at Adrian, at the barest hint of pink on his cheeks. Could he _also..._?

They were both so beautiful. Sypha was blessed to have them in her life. She boldly took Adrian’s hand and pulled him with her as she strode over to Trevor, who started slightly. But neither of them seemed to object when she put one arm around Trevor’s back and the other around Adrian’s, pulling them both into a hug.

Her embrace forced them into proximity, and Trevor felt panic welling up again. “Uh, Sypha—”

“Hush, you!” she said sternly. “Let me enjoy this.” She felt their arms cross as they both embraced her, and she let out an audible sigh of contentment. “I’m so, _so_ glad that you’re both... well, maybe not _alright_, but I’m glad you’re both still here.” Her voice wavered ever so slightly at the end, and her hands dug into their backs, her head bowed between them,

Neither Trevor or Adrian were sure who moved first, but the hands not holding Sypha were suddenly touching. It was a just a little bump, the barest contact. But Adrian’s pinky caught and curled around Trevor’s, and then Trevor turned his hand to weave his fingers with Adrian’s.

Trevor’s first instinct was to pull away from all of it. From the warmth and safety and the _belonging_. But then he realized that Adrian was looking him in the eyes, and _saw_ that panic, the fear of wanting something that would break him if it was lost. Pain yawned open in Adrian then, and Trevor felt his chest go tight to see his... his _friend_ hurting.

It took a considerable effort of will to _not_ squeeze down with his full supernatural strength on Trevor’s hand, desperate for his friend not to leave, not to abandon him. Trevor saw it. He didn’t know exactly what the expression meant but he _saw_ it, and wanted to make it go away. Letting go of Adrian’s hand probably wouldn’t go over well at this point, but Sypha had his other occupied.

Sypha...

He looked down at her bowed head, then at Adrian. Then Trevor leaned forward, head dipping forward. Without needing any sort of explanation, Adrian’s body bowed forward, curling around Sypha until his forehead bumped Trevor’s. Trevor felt the dhampir let out a trembling breath, the vice-like hold of his hand easing. He could feel Adrian’s breath against his cheek, sort of... shuddering.

Adrian’s head turned, his nose brushing Trevor’s skin, and then his lips were against his cheek. Not a kiss, just there, slightly parted with his breathing. They all hung there for a moment, and Trevor realized that Adrian breathed a lot slower than either himself or Sypha. Trevor’s own heart was pounding, heat and color blooming in his cheeks.

But Adrian’s _lips_ were _still there_. Suddenly, all Trevor could think about was how soft those lips had been outside, and the need he’d felt in Adrian’s hold. Maybe... he should try again. To see if he really _did_ like Adrian like he liked Sypha. His head turned in tiny, slow increments, until his nose finally slotted in with Adrian’s. He felt the dhampir gasp softly, a little gurgled sound at the back of his throat.

Trevor kissed him.

It was such a soft, small thing to begin with. Just a little flex of his lips to touch them to Alucard’s. Heat tightened Trevor’s chest as Alucard’s hand left his, sliding up and into his hair, cupping the back of his head. Neither of them seemed to realize that Sypha had raised her head.

Her own heart felt as if it had jumped into her throat. The kiss her two men were sharing was so _soft_. A gentle shifting of lips and the hands not still firmly embracing her on each other’s cheeks. She didn’t mean to, but she made a soft sound, cursing herself when they snapped apart, flushing deeply.

“Wait!” she snapped. 

She let go of them to grab Trevor by the face, pulling him in for a hard, quick kiss. Then she spun and dragged Adrian down for the same treatment. When she stepped back, both men were wearing expressions that were somehow a mix of horrified, embarrassed, and aroused.

As the silence dragged on, Sypha felt her own cheeks flush scarlet. ” I—I'm not upset!” she blurted out. “If... if you kiss. Or. Other things.” She looked to the side, crossing her arms over her chest reflexively. “And... and maybe wanted to... kissmesometimestoo!” The rest rushed out and slurred together.

Adrian blinked. He _couldn’t_ have heard her correctly, surely. What were the odds that her feelings would be the same as his? The urge to turn into a bat and fly out a window rose fiercely in his chest; anything but staying there and waiting for one of them to speak.

Trevor was equally dumbfounded, but slightly—_only_ slightly—less likely to bolt. He had no fucking idea what to do. Instead of taking the dangerous route of self-introspection, he looked at Sypha. “You... kissed both of us...” he said lamely. Sypha half expected Alucard to make some sort of scathing comment, but he was looking at her with the same shocked, disbelieving look as Trevor. Her own face was very warm indeed. 

“It’s not uncommon among Speakers,” she said, a bit defensively. “For lovers to be more than just... just a pair of two.” Her eyes lowered. “And I... I feel... I feel very strongly. For both of you. And you both...” She bit her lip as she looked up. “Do you... do the two of you not feel something... for each other as well?”

Trevor opened his mouth, the ‘no’ at the tip of his tongue. But he saw the hurt in Adrian’s eyes, and it died. Blush deepening, he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know shit about things like this,” he muttered. “About... feeling a... a _certain way_ about another person... I never really...” A helpless shrug.

“Oh, Trevor...” He could hear the pity in Sypha’s voice. Sypha, who may have lost her parents but grew up surrounded by love and family. He could also hear the affection in her voice, and then she was hugging him again, face hidden in his chest and arms around his middle. “We don’t have to do anything. I just... I wanted you to know how I felt for the two of you...”

Alucard hovered behind her, wanting to offer his own comfort but uncertain if it would be welcome. “I... I agree. I understand if you had not... _entertained_ such ideas before... I... care for you both a great deal...” He trailed off, shoulders sagging as if to physically show how deflated he felt. “I do not wish to upset you, Trevor.”

“Shit...” Trevor scratched the back of his head as Sypha pulled away from him. “Look, you’re not... not upsetting me. It’s just... a lot. I never... neverkissedamanbefore,” he finished quickly. “It’s just... a lot? We fought monsters from hell, a vampire army, and fucking _Dracula_!” He looked at the two of them, unfairly beautiful in the golden sunlight filtering through the picturesque kitchen window. “And the two of you...” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.”

But when he turned, his elbow knocked into a small, squat barrel that he was _certain_ hadn’t been on the counter before. It even had a little tap at the bottom, and there was a fancy ceramic stein mug on the counter beside it. Everyone stared, Trevor poking at both the mug and the little keg.

“Alright, so maybe a magic kitchen isn’t such a bad idea.”


End file.
